Further Adventures With Cameras

I finally did get out and do some shooting today, though it didn't work out nearly the way I'd intended. I left my rokkaku at home, and of course the wind was strong enough to fly the Flowform 16, but not strong enough for it to fly my camera. Which turned out to be just as well since all my rig "improvements" made it so the shutter wouldn't fire. Ah well, that's progress for you.

Instead, I spent some time messing with CHDK scripts, and got my camera set up to do five image bracketing, saving in RAW format. Yes, I'm trying to do HDR from the air. Of course without the ability to trip the shutter remotely, it was all moot.

So I did some HDR shots from the ground. Being near the ocean, of course I wound up with surf in the pictures. This didn't work out so well. The surf was different in each of the shots, so it didn't really work out well. So I did some inland shots, which came out better. Boring, but better. Then it hit me: Infrared!

I popped on my R72 filter and did a five shot sequence of the surf. The long exposure times blurred the surf into oblivion, so the stack worked. Also, I found out that algae, just like tree leaves, comes out white in the near-IR. I should've known this, but it really didn't occur to me until I saw it. Coolio!



None of the pictures I took are worth posting, being experiments rather than really carefully crafted shots. My "tripod" was three chunks of coral rock set in a pile with my camera balanced on them. Not the best thing in the world for framing a shot. But it shows I can shoot RAW with my camera, I can automate an HDR stack using CHDK, and the idea works well enough that I can do it in the infrared as well. More testing required!

Now all I need to do is un-fix my rig to the point where the shutter fires again. Sheesh!

Tom

Expert Amateurs

I haven't been doing photography lately because I've been heavily engaged at work. Which is typically not a bad thing for me. Even so, this last week has been rough. We've been coating a 4m class telescope mirror; a process that takes three days when things are really clicking, and longer if they aren't. This one took three very full days. I left the house at 5:30am each morning, and typically got home after 9pm each evening. Added to that, all the work happened at 14,000' above sea level. It takes a toll on a body. Trust me.

By the end of a schedule like that, everyone is tired, a little loopy, and ready for the whole thing to be over. The catch is this: not every coating comes off first-try. Any contamination, even the size of a fingerprint, can cost an entire coating. What's worse, you never know until the whole process is done and you take the mirror back out of the vacuum chamber. At that point you get to find out if you go home and wake up to a new day the next day, or whether you go home knowing you'll be waking up the next morning to strip the bad coating off, re-prep the equipment, order new chemicals, and start over. It takes a toll on a body. Trust me.

As the chamber was pumping down, an odd thought occurred to me: Here was a whole team of experts in our field, but mirror coatings happen so infrequently, in essence we were all amateurs. What's worse, practically every monolithic professional telescope mirror is coated by amateurs. There's really no escaping it.

Most professional telescope mirrors are coated with bare aluminum. Since telescopes are used outside by definition, they're exposed to the elements. Wind, dust, fog, and rain (yes, even rain...) slowly destroy the coating, so most mirror coatings only last three to five years. Then they must be stripped and replaced. For a telescope with a monolithic mirror this typically means the whole place is shut down once every three to five years so the telescope can be taken apart, and the mirror removed for re-coating. It doesn't make sense to have people on-staff solely to coat mirrors, so this usually means engineers and technicians who are otherwise occupied 99% of the time will be the ones doing the job. A job they have to re-learn every three to five years.

Yeah...

The place where I work is in a unique position. We're one of the older 4m class telescopes, so as newer ones were built in the same area, they had the option not to include coating equipment at their facility and to use ours instead. Several of them took this route, so we coordinate coatings for a number of telescopes. Running the numbers, we do about one major coating every year or so. This doesn't happen like clock-work, so some years we'll do two in a given year, and at other times we won't do any for years at a stretch. We've got more experience coating mirrors than most of the people in the area, but even so it's something we re-learn each time.

This past year we've spent weeks running experiment after experiment, trying to refine our technique: what chemicals we use, how we perform each step, which steps to include, etc. We're trying to make the process safer for the people involved and for the environment, and at the same time we're trying to build in as much assurance as we can that the process will produce a good coating every time. Leading up to this coating we had done dozens of small mirrors. If you needed to find someone with practice and experience, we were it.

Even so, there's a huge difference between coating a 12" mirror and coating a mirror more than ten feet across. The last one we'd done that size was our own, a year ago. Experts? Yes. But expert amateurs nonetheless.

We still don't know how this one turned out. The thickness was good, and the metal stuck to the glass quite well. But there's a blemish in the coating roughly half a meter square. We won't know how this affects the performance of the mirror until next week, when we can measure reflectivity and scatter in that area. At that point the people responsible for the mirror will make the call: Keep it as-is, or do it again and hope it comes out better next time and not worse.

Which brings up the reason we're all fine remaining amateur experts: Getting in more coatings per year typically means coating the same mirror twice. Coating the same mirror twice means things didn't work out right the first time. If that's the only way to become an expert, it's not worth it.

Tom

A Real Treat

I splurged.

I've been using a Tiffen circular polarizer since 1995, when my wife and I got our first 35mm camera. It's been great to have, and I've since claimed it for use with my KAP rig. But I knew it couldn't last. My wife has given me more than one subtle hint about the lack of a CP filter in the DSLR bag, and the thing is beginning to show signs of wear.

So I put in a bid on a new Hoya SuperHMC circular polarizer. It's $20 under list, so I hope I get it. I'd prefer a Heliopan, but the $130 price tag is half what I paid for my camera. It's too rich for my blood. But the Hoya has had good reviews, and it's going to be worlds better than the Tiffen I've been using so far.

But why stop when you're on a roll?

I also went to Jones Airfoil and ordered a KAP Feather, which is one of the more ingenious stabilization devices I've seen for KAP rigs. I plan to use mine on my digital rig, but I'd like to consider it for my 4x5 rig as well. They make a larger one for DSLR rigs that should be a good weight and cross-sectional match to the 4x5. I can't wait!

Sure, it's a splurge. But it's not without purpose. These two additions to my KAP bag should let me take better pictures. Less lens flare, less motion blur, it's a move in the right direction.

Tom

Lens Flare is Lame

It's funny how the mind can forget things. All the years I've done ground photography, lens flare has always been a consideration. With large format photography, especially, I've always been conscious of where the sun is, whether it can shine on my lens, and how I can keep that from happening.

So why I forgot all that when I hung my camera on my kite line yesterday, I'll never know. Granted, I was shooting outside my comfort zone. But photography is photography. The location of the camera doesn't change that.

Most of my KAP has been done near noon. This isn't a conscious choice of time or light, it's simply when I get to fly. It's not the best time of day to be doing photography, but it does simplify a number of decisions. Exposure is almost always sunny-16, and when I use a polarizer I always know where the sun is, so I can use a fixed rotation.

Yesterday I shot in late afternoon light over water with a partly-cloudy sky. I opted not to use the polarizer for fear of cutting out too much light. I also opted to put a UV blocking filter on the end of my camera's lens barrel to try to keep stray sea spray and sand from hitting my optics. The combination was disastrous. Every shot came out with lens flare, blown out skies, washed out mid-tones, and every other sin of the inexperienced photographer.

Gaaah!

Today, instead of rushing out to correct my mistake, I decided to spend a little time taking care of my long list of nagging complaints with my rig, and to try to think through ways to keep from repeating my experience of yesterday.

For starters I took the filter adapter barrel off my camera and spray painted the inside with flat black paint. Why anyone would make a piece of optical equipment with bright, shiny surfaces near an optical path, I have no idea. But that's what they did. Now my adapter barrel is fairly un-reflective on the inside.

Next, I took care of some issues that have been bugging me for a while. My 1/4-20 mounting screw is now tethered to my rig. No more dropping my mounting screw into loose a`a lava, only to see it disappear into the rock pile! Likewise I cleaned up my shutter servo mount, simultaneously making for better alignment with the shutter button and shaving off a little weight. Finally, I slotted the mounting hole for my camera, so I can get it a little more snug against the bracket. No more wobbly camera!

But back to the lens flare, what I really need is a way to get a large(ish) lens hood on my camera. The problem is everything that goes on my KAP rig can act like a sail and catch the wind. A lens hood is essentially a giant sail, mounted far out from the axis of rotation. It's going to cause instabilities in the rig!

So for now I don't really have a good solution on lens flare except to fly with no filter and hope. Meanwhile I've taken the UV filter out of my bag, leaving only the polarizer and the Hoya R72 IR filter I use for ground photography.

But the rig is looking a lot better. I hope I can get out this afternoon and give it another go.

Tom

My Dear Old Jeep

It may finally be time to trade in my dear old Jeep for something different. It's not just the oil crunch, though I'd be lying if I said that didn't have a bearing on this decision. It's also not the fact that I have an oil leak under the valve cover. That's about as fixable as an oil leak gets. It might have something to do with the smoke coming out of my valve cover that leads me to believe one of my valve seals is going. But the biggest bugaboo for me is that the cabin fills with exhaust gases if I drive for any appreciable distance.

Yeah...

I did about 100 miles today running errands, never got a camera out, never got a kite up, and wound up with all the classic signs of carbon monoxide poisoning. Exhaust leak? You bet! Do I want to do this again? HECK NO! So now I have the choice: Fix the exhaust leak, replace the valve cover gasket, potentially rebuild the head, and continue to deal with lousy gas mileage...

Or...

I need to start looking at the classifieds, Craig's List, and just checking out the side of the road. Most cars here sell by word of mouth. Once upon a time everyone parked their used cars at the city park. I think they started cracking down on that, though, because a few years ago people stopped. For a while the unofficial used lot was the lawn in front of the place where I work. But even that seems to be losing favor. The last time I saw used cars they were down by a horse pasture near the transfer station. Keeping my eyes peeled!

So what am I after? I'd LOVE to have the Professor's Delorian from the end of Back to the Future. Mr. Fusion, here we come! But since I'm a practical person, I acknowledge that the chances of that happening any time soon are slim to none. Sooo...

Four doors would be great, but not necessary. Off-road would be terrific, but considering that's where my Jeep loses most of its gas mileage, I'll part with this one. >30 MPG would be fantastic, but for used I'd take >25. I'd like an engine I don't have to mess with, a suspension that just plain works, and brakes that can take whatever I dish out without needing constant rebuilding. I'd like enough trunk space to fit a quarter sheet of plywood along with all my KAP gear.

And #1 on my wish list? Air conditioning.

Most of the time I don't need it and wouldn't use it. But driving to Kona really hammers home the utility of something that keeps you from boiling in your own juices.

Right now, though, I'm facing the certainty that I'll be driving my CO-filling Jeep for a few more months. Windows down!

Tom

Twice Bitten Once Shy

Or so the saying doesn't go. But it's how it happened, anyway.

Friday night my wife and I went to bed, read for a while, and turned off the lights. The only unusual difference was that instead of sleeping with a pillow over my eyes like I normally do, I put it down at my side. Insignificant at best, but it became important later on.

I was right on the edge of sleep when I realized I was uncomfortable. So I rolled over on my side. Our roadside-rescue kitten, Storm, was sleeping between us. Storm is still in the process of being de-fleaed, so I had reason to suspect I was getting flea-bit. Grrrr!

Shortly after rolling over, I felt like I was being bitten. Fleas... GRRRRR! I reached over my shoulder to flick off the "flea" and ran into something largeish. Funny how fast you can go from sleepy to wakey when something like that happens!

One of our cats, Nala, is in the habit of bringing play things into the house. Mice, grasshoppers, moths, mice, oh, and mice. @#$%???!!! What bit me?! Was it one of her presents?!

Apparently at this point I was still utterly incoherent. My wife later told me I said words to the effect of, "I just got bit by something, and it took a chunk out of me!" Not being incoherent, and being pretty sensible about such things, she sat stock still and said, "Turn on the lights. Now."

Lights on, nothing there. So I started pulling my pillows out of the bed. It came as no surprise to her, though it utterly shocked the bejiminies out of me, but an eight inch centipede dropped out from under one of my pillows and flopped onto the bed, only to scurry off and disappear somewhere.

Insignificant as it may have seemed, at this point I should've been really really glad I didn't sleep with my pillow over my eyes! That thought didn't occur to me until much later, though.

My wife checked me for bites. She found two. One was bad enough to draw blood, and the fang-to-fang separation was on the order of 8-10mm. It was a big 'un. The other bite didn't have clear fang marks, but it was already turning red. Pretty soon my whole shoulder/neck area was inflamed.

If you've never been bitten by a centipede, by all means keep it that way! Don't start now! But if you have, you probably have some idea of what I was going through. It feels like someone squirted lighter fluid all over you and lit it. And from what I've heard there's really not much you can do to cut the pain except ride it out. So I got busy with that while we tried to figure out where to sleep for the rest of the night. It was still in our room, for crying out loud!

At this point another worry started to nag at me: I'm allergic to bee and wasp stings. So far I haven't had respiratory failure because of it, but in high school I had skin reactions to a sting that convinced my mother to take me to an emergency room. This was way worse than any wasp sting I'd ever had! I told my wife to keep tabs on me in case I had trouble breathing or anything.
Luckily my wife knows her exoskeletal life forms better than I do. "It's not an insect. The toxins aren't related." What?! "Centipedes are arachnids, not insects. You get a histamine reaction to insect stings, but arachnid venom is a neurotoxin. I'll keep an eye on you, but I don't think you have anything to worry about."

A rational person would've believed a rational voice like that. But I still felt like I was being burned alive from the shoulders up, and it was starting to feel like things were moving around under my skin, from my neck all the way down to my left hand. I don't have anything to worry about?!

In the end, of course, she was right. We did finally drop off hours later, sleeping on our futon couch. In the morning I still felt awful, but it was better. It just felt like a really bad sun burn. By the end of the day things were back to normal, and I couldn't even tell where the bites were.

But I'm never forgetting what it felt like. Never again. Not if I can help it, anyway.

Tom

Coming Home Empty

I managed to get out both days this weekend. Saturday, my son and I went to Kua Bay, the place with the consistent wind. Only it wasn't consistent, and for the most part it wasn't there. I didn't even get a kite up until after 11am, and that was iffy at best. I posted some stuff to Flickr and Facebook, but nothing I'd frame and stick on the wall.

Nevertheless, it was fun. I hadn't flown my digital KAP rig in over a month, and it was nice to get everything out, get it all airborne, and take some pictures. But it did hammer home the need for some new places to fly. Cruising the KAP group on Flickr helped, but so many of the places other people are flying simply don't exist here. Scott Dunn did some fantastic urban KAP in NYC, Fanny and Anthony flew at an abbey in France (with permission!), and strange though this may sound, Craig Wilson did some really cool architectural abstracts at a sewage treatment plant. Outstanding photography of subjects that simply don't exist here, darn it!

Sunday I threw everything into the car, and we went for a hike at Pololu Valley. The wind didn't feel right, and I found I'd thrown everything but my rokkaku into the car. There's not enough beach in Pololu to fly the Flowform, so basically I'd shot my KAP efforts in the foot. But a quick rain shower convinced me that was no bad thing. I grabbed my 4x5 bag and tripod, and hit the trail with the rest of my family.

Here's why I don't like switching film on my 4x5. I'm used to shooting one B&W film and maybe one color film, if I felt rich enough to buy a box. Without a color lab on island that'll touch large format film, I've mostly stopped shooting color. I've grown complacent. I expect to have only one kind of film in my bag now.

OOPS!

My first two shots were done on what I thought was 400TMY, but I later found was 100TMX. My third and final shot was on 400TMY, and I'm not convinced it was worth tripping the shutter.

So now I've got a developing nightmare, with four 100TMX shots from several weeks ago, all shot at ISO 100, two 100TMX shots shot at ISO 400, and one 400TMY shot, shot at ISO 400. Three different development times, three times as much time in the darkroom.

ARGH!

But the best part was coming home all disappointed and discouraged, and seeing a new post in Scott Bulger's Blog about not being greedy, and not tripping the shutter unless you've really thought out your shot. It's well worth the read. And for me it was the difference between disappointment in a day's non-photography, and feeling like I did the right thing by not taking pictures.

So I came home empty. But looking back on it, I really did have a good time getting there.

Tom